


Shake Me Out of These Chains

by The_Shy_One



Series: Fratt Week 2020 [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Fratt Week, Fratt Week 2020, Grave, Light Angst, M/M, POV Matt Murdock, Prompt Fic, graveyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shy_One/pseuds/The_Shy_One
Summary: Matt follows after a familiar heartbeat, wondering what they could be doing this close to Hell's Kitchen.(Fratt Week 2020 Prompt - Grave)
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Series: Fratt Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985983
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49
Collections: Fratt Week





	Shake Me Out of These Chains

A familiar heartbeat was heard towards the middle of the night, passing by the street where Matt had decided to take a moment to rest. It was steady, thrumming at a pace that Matt would have called soothing if he didn’t know who it belonged to. Matt gets up to follow it, listening to the familiar beat as Frank continues to walk on, intent on getting to his destination without drifting to take care of any criminals. Matt keeps close to the man by going on rooftops, flipping and climbing where it was necessary, making sure he doesn’t lose the older man. 

He was curious to see what had Frank’s attention that he wasn’t going after criminals while he was out.

There was the familiar smell of gunpowder that clung to Frank’s body - recent, but not recent enough that it suggested that he had any guns on him at the moment. There was also the scent of coffee - black? No, it had sugar in it when it was consumed, but no cream - as well as the soft scent of flowers - Lilies? Was it lilies? - drifting towards him as he continued to follow. 

The sounds of the city were always there, a background noise that Matt had at some point had to admit he would never fully get rid of, no matter what he did. It reached the edges of his mind, acknowledged, but was put into the back of his mind in favour of keeping Frank’s heartbeat his sole focus as he kept following the man over rooftops. It was a steady rhythm, always steady even when the man fought against him, only faltering when it came to an outside source affecting the rhythm.

It was a mystery that Matt wishes he could solve, how Frank kept such a steady beat despite everything. A flip from one rooftop to another and he heard Frank’s footsteps change as he went from concrete to something softer. Grass? Was it grass that he was stepping on?

Matt stops and tilts his head, focusing on how the sounds bounced off of other objects, making a picture in his mind that he could follow. It was a rough image, everything shifting as Frank continued to walk through the area. But Matt knew where the man was walking and the reason why now as he made sense of the image. It was a church graveyard, most likely where his family had been buried months ago. 

Matt followed behind, climbing down the building and going over to the fence of the graveyard. He climbs over the metal fence easily to keep up with Frank, quietly landing on the grass. His footsteps were quiet on the grass as he moved around headstones, making sure that he wasn’t about to be caught by the Punisher for following him. Frank might have spilled his guts about his daughter after he rescued him from the Irish Mafia, telling him how brave she was, how she held him up, how Frank crumbled when he saw what had become of her that day in the park. But Matt doubts that Frank would be kind to him this time around, sneaking around and intruding on a moment between him and his deceased family on the approaching anniversary.

He hears the steps stop in front of a grave and the soft sound of a sigh escaping Frank’s lips. Then the joints in his knees protested against Frank kneeling, the rustle of the plastic wrap around the flowers loudly giving away that Frank was shifting them from his arms to a place in front of the gravestone. Matt stilled and then went to crouch behind a tall gravestone, wondering if the other man would speak or stay there in silence until he felt he could leave.

Matt remembered the first year he visited his father’s grave. Sister Maggie had taken him that day, showed him where his father was buried and had even placed the small boutique of flowers that they had bought together at the gravestone. She left him alone after that, saying she would wait for him a few rows away where she would visit and clean up a gravestone that looked like it needed it.

It was hard. He was so close to turning eleven at that point and it was hard. All the sounds of the city still bothered him since he couldn't shut it out and the scent of the grass being treated had given him a headache. But the hardest thing was running his fingers on the headstone and having to read his father’s name, date of birth and date of death that way, forever permanent despite how much he wished it wasn't true. 

He didn’t cry, no. But it felt like he should have with all the feelings that rushed through him, guilt and agony flooding his mind that his father was below his feet because he had to make Matt proud for once. 

That he would have been here to hold him and sternly tell him to hit the books, that Matt wasn’t going to turn out like him if it wasn’t for that little detail.

He didn’t visit his father’s grave much after that first year. Between Stick’s lessons and being so angry at the world and lost in his own life, Matt didn’t see any good reason to visit beyond maybe telling his father’s grave the big accomplishments like being accepted into Columbia and graduating from there. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was a bunch of other things that Matt figured he didn’t need to bother a ghost with.

Matt listens as Frank’s heart continues its steady beat, still kneeling in front of the grave. The silence was long as Frank didn’t move. Then the slightest shift of clothing and he was sitting down on the cool grass and started to softly talk to the grave.

“Hello baby, it’s been a while.” Frank says as a start, sounding genuinely happy for all that Matt has interacted with him. Then stops for a beat, silence rushing in as Frank takes in a breath to steady himself. “But you’re probably used to that. You keeping an eye on him up there, making sure he don’t drive Ma crazy?”

There was no answer, there never was. But it didn’t stop Frank from continuing to talk to the grave of his daughter.

“I bet there’s lots to do up there. Much more than what I’m doing.” Another paused and Matt hears the shuddering breath that the man takes in, but continues on. “I wish I could see it with you, but I screwed it up, baby. Don’t believe in God all that much, not anymore. Haven't since I joined the Marines and not after what happened with you and Jr. and Ma at the park," Another breath, to keep Frank steady despite how much it made him struggle to do so," But I’m sure if he’s real and watching, he doesn’t have a place for me. Not after what I did. He couldn’t place me near you or Jr or Ma after what I did when I do die.”

There was the sharp smell of salt in the air, the containment of keeping his breath from shuddering and sucking in air too quickly. Matt continues to stay still, listening as Frank talks to his daughter.

He wonders if Lisa is the only one who will be talked to or if Frank will get to his son and wife as well.

He couldn't blame if he could only face his daughter for this Matt. Matt still hadn't gone to his father's grave to spill his guts about his decision about being Daredevil. Maybe he was afraid that he would disappoint his father for turning towards something similar to his father's boxing career. Maybe it was his Catholic guilt that made him ashamed for not visiting his father's grave as he should.

Maybe it was a lot of things that prevented him from wanting to face the ghost of his father, Battlin' Jack.

“Just know I love you a lot. And that no matter what I do, that will never change, baby.” His breathing still shuddered as he ended the short conversation, but his heartbeat still kept going steady. Matt stayed where he was as he heard Frank stand up.

There were a few more minutes quietly spent at two other graves, placing flowers at the gravestones. He didn’t speak to them at all, not like he did with Lisa. And yet, Matt knew that the man was grieving for them with the soft sound his hands made on the stone as he traced the letters of their names and dates of birth and death.

Then he was moving away, coming towards Matt. His heartbeat was steady even when he gave a surprised sound at seeing Matt sitting behind a headstone.

“Creeper now, Red?” Frank asked, gruff, hiding the fact that he had struggled to keep his breaths steady a few minutes before.

“Only occasionally.” He says back. “Was wondering what you were up to when I heard you walking with no guns.”

“Ever heard the saying that curiosity killed the cat?” His voice was still gruff, but somehow the tone had become lighter.

It was enough for Matt to smile and say “But satisfaction did bring it back.”

“Smartass.” Frank didn’t walk after saying that, instead of sitting on a headstone. “You heard everything?”

“Yeah,” Matt said carefully. The other man let out a sigh, tired and drawn. It reminded Matt of the man he heard pouring his guts out all those months ago, a tired man, a father and husband who wanted to see that his family got some kind of justice after all he had seen that day.

Matt tilted his head, wondering if his father would have been the same way if Matt had been killed as callously as Frank's family had been. If he would have torn apart Hell’s Kitchen to find Matt’s killer, if he would have died in the name of getting Matt justice. 

Matt liked to think that his father wouldn’t be as violent, would have quietly grieved for Matt if his child had died like that but. There was a reason why his grandmother always said the Murdock boys have the devil in them.

“Nothing to say, Red? Nothing about I might get to heaven to see them if I follow your way?”

Matt smiled, couldn’t resist doing so. Those questions were leading, were a bit to get a rise out of him, plain and simple. A trick he had learned to resist while in law school, only giving in if he wasn't thinking clearly. “I can’t say anything you haven’t heard from me before, Frank.”

A snort and Frank saying, ”Coming from the man who yelled at me across a rooftop about killing gang members and morality.”

“I can change my mind from time to time.” Matt continues to talk when Frank lets out another snort - this one more amused than the first one. “Just got to knock my head a few times to get it through.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My father was the same, so I just inherited it.”

“He has thoughts about this whole charade?”

Matt shrugs in response. “Probably disappoint if I could talk to him. He was very adamant about me hitting the books instead of other people. He died when I was nine, unfortunately.”

A silence uncomfortably graced them. Matt waited as Frank took his time to answer him, shifting his legs so he would sit on the ground. Frank’s heart was steady and yet the way Frank shifted on top of the gravestone, Matt knew that something was spinning through the man’s mind.

“Sorry, Red.” Was all Frank came up with, voice tight. 

Matt’s heard those words all his life when people found out about his father. And yet, hearing it from the other man, it was sincere in its shortness and the long drawn out silence.

“It’s fine,” He says, unsure of how to reply. The same words he’s heard many times and still he couldn’t find an answer that suited it yet. “It’s fine, Frank.”

A huff of a tired laugh and “Never gets easier to say something back to those words, does it Red?”

“No. It doesn’t.”

Frank moves away from the gravestone, clothes shifting and steps made purposely loud to give Matt a heads up that he was coming closer. Then with quick movements, Frank puts something that settles on his ear and leaves him. Matt, surprised, doesn’t move his hand to feel what Frank left for him until the loud footsteps are echoing on the sidewalk outside the graveyard.

He moves to pick out a flower - smelling it, he confirms to be a lily - and holds it in his hand. Something about the gesture speaks to something louder, something that means to shift between them. What it was, Matt wasn’t sure. But he could settle to find out what it was, hoping that it was something good for once for either of them.


End file.
